Modern Affairs
by NeuroticMuse413
Summary: OneShot! Jasper is about to get married and asks his once best friend, Edward, to be the best man. Edward’s refusal leads to a life-altering revelation and sparks a dangerous affair. ExJ, JxA - AU/AH. Rated M. Slash Backslash One-Shot Contest Entry.
1. Modern Affairs

_**SLASH BACKSLASH ONE-SHOT CONTEST**_

**Story Name: ****Modern Affairs****  
fPen name: NeuroticMuse413  
Pairing: Jasper/Edward, J/E/A  
Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight.****  
To see other entries in the "SLASH BACKSLASH" contest, please visit the C2: ****http ://www. fanfiction. net/c2/74941/3/0/1/**

**SUMMARY:**_ A drunken night in Rome breaks up a lifelong friendship. Four years later, Jasper is about to get married and asks his once best friend, Edward, to be the best man. Edward's refusal leads to a life-altering revelation and sparks a dangerous affair. M._

**WARNING!****MATURE READERS ONLY**_**.**__ It deals with homosexual sex between men and offers ridiculously descriptive sex scenes. There's also a slight rape scene, though not really. No one is being forced and there's no violence. They're just… well, not aware it's happening until a bit later and join in. If you are uncomfortable with any of these situations, _PLEASE DO NOT READ FURTHER_. _

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"Love who you're with because of who they are and who they aspire to be, not what they can do for you, where they come from, or how well they can love you back."

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It was easy to share my life with Jasper. He'd been my neighbor, my friend, my brother to some extent. When my parents died and we were cast off into the adult world, we became the only family each other had. And while I understood why Jasper never took the role on quite as seriously as I did, I never felt more hope than that week we spent in Italy just after our first year of college.

It wasn't an exchange program or study abroad or anything. It was two guys who worked their asses off (in my case, quite literally) to save up enough money for the trip. He asked me once, over tequila shots, where the money came from. I never answered and he never asked again.

We were 19 and still beautifully naïve, Jasper especially. He'd never been in love and was looking for some Italian jailbait to pretend for a night. He could have gotten any of the girls at Roamina with a wink and a drunken smirk but he didn't know these things. I'd never taught him and, as always, he never asked. He thought that if he sat at a bar and looked sullen and lonely, a girl would just naturally walk up to him and ask him back to her place.

There was no mirror behind the bar so he couldn't see what I was doing to ensure such a miracle didn't happen. He was hunched over the bar on his little stool, but I stood beside him. I leaned my body into him so my crotch was just up to his hip and even went as far as resting my chin on his shoulder for a few seconds under the guise of a noisy room. He wouldn't be able to hear me if I didn't lean in, or see the way I looked at him with lustful eyes. He didn't notice but every girl who even glanced at him got the hint.

Jasper was taken. He just had no idea.

I practically force-fed him three more vodka tonics and a rum and Coke. I had twice that but alcohol didn't hit me like it got to him. The boy was so country-fried steak. I had never grown accustomed to Texas life, no matter how long ago I moved to Dallas. I was a New York fag and damn proud of it, to anyone but the only person who really mattered.

My eyes told my whole life story, and they were aimed lovingly and passionately at the side of Jasper's face as I carried him back to our hotel room.

I'd managed to get enough money to rent us a moderately-sized room, a palace compared to the hostels I'd seen on the way there. For a couple of broke college kids, we were doing more than okay. I'd asked for a single king-sized bed and told Jazz all the other rooms were taken. Tourist season. I wondered how many more opportunistic lies I could get away with before Jazz realized the plan brewing dangerously in my mind.

I set him down on his side of the bed and backed away. I sat in a chair on the other side of the room and stared at him from afar, leaning forward onto my knees as I waited for him to fall asleep. Jazz was a heavy sleeper (had to be with all those kids running around his house growing up) and all the drinks had him in a semi-catatonic state by the time I dropped him on his pillow like a sack of potatoes.

I could have had my way with him two hours prior but I just sat in a chair, looking on as he stirred and mumbled incoherently about groceries and bad chess.

The first night, I just couldn't do it.

The plan had been simple, subconsciously in the works since I was a twelve-year-old perv wanking in my room. It was always the same fantasy, playing in my head like a movie. I'd drug him somehow, undress him in some dark basement somewhere, fuck him, and leave forever. I didn't expect it'd be so hard. I couldn't do it because he was also my friend, an unexpected and beautiful byproduct of my lustful teenage years.

And, even though I was 19 and lived in a world where sodomy no longer had such a negative connotation, I always felt like a monster for wanting someone so desperately when I knew he would only reject me if he knew the truth.

We had five more nights in Rome and every night, I tried again. Every night, I failed, and it became more and more evident that Jasper didn't deserve someone like me in his life. He deserved the miracle girl in the bar, the ones I'd been fending off with body language and deathly glares behind his back.

It was on the final night before we headed back to Dallas, after a week of museums and bars and museums and bars and museums and bars, that I heard the disappointment in his voice as he slept. By then, I had raccoon eyes and a lagging shuffle where a confident strut had once been but it didn't matter. He'd said my name in the most loving, drunken voice I had ever heard. I was by his bedside before I could even command my feet to move. I thought he'd woken and wanted something but he was just murmuring.

I began to fantasize as I'd done for so many years. I ran gentle fingertips around the edges of his face and over his lips. He smiled and his hand flew blindly to my knee on the bed. I whimpered uncontrollably. I'd always been told I was a loud fuck but I didn't really take much stock in it before that point. The whimper could have woken a dead man but not my Jasper, not after all that tequila.

He said my name against and his hand started to creep up my leg, towards my crotch. I covered my mouth to keep from squealing with a mix of happiness and surprise. I had held him before. I'd even playfully tackled him during a game of flag football and held his hand at high school graduation to give him the courage to walk across that final stage. I should have stopped there, should have cherished those moments when they were still beautiful and stolen. But I didn't.

He scooted over in bed, his eyes closed, and started to undo his belt with one lazy hand. I moved his hand away and undid the big Texas-shaped buckle myself, smirking. He wouldn't be caught dead wearing that in Dallas but he thought Italian woman needed more reason to pay attention to his crotch so he brought it along. Being the last night, he thought he needed the extra help. He hadn't. It was clear in those tight, low black jeans that he had all the extra equipment he needed to make a girl happy.

I ran my hand over his crotch just to feel the shape of it under the thick denim. He moaned softly and I almost came in my pants. I quickly withdrew my hand and waited another moment. Maybe I wouldn't get my fantasy but I could still get a modicum of fun out of the evening. I unzipped his jeans and started to pull down his pants. He seemed half-awake and began to complain but I just shushed him as though he were a child and told him, "Don't worry, Jazz. I'm just trying to make you more comfortable. You can go back to sleep now."

He nodded, hid his beautiful blue eyes with the back of his arm, and lifted his hips up so I could slide the pants off. They were tight and it took a bit of painful pulling but he didn't seem to wake, not even after that. He trusted me too much.

I sighed deeply and stared at his white boxers. They had little red polka-dots throughout and I couldn't help but chuckle softly. I thought it was just ridiculous that my own dick would spring to action so quickly when I had seen him in considerably less clothing in our high school locker room. I suppose, back then, I had only been allowed to look, not touch. Now, there was no one to stop me and tell me I was wrong and sick and perverted for wanting Jasper so much.

I ran the palm of my hand over his crotch gently, testing my own strength to stop. He didn't even murmur. I ran it again with more pressure. He was still asleep. It felt even more wrong with every layer of clothing I pulled off and every caress I was able to get away with.

My fingers played with the rim of his boxers, pulling down to catch a peek of the goods. Again, I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached. I straddled him carefully on the bed and pulled down down down until they were at his ankles. From there, he kicked them off himself and I took it as a tiny incentive to continue.

I ran my hands up the inside of his thighs, craving the feel of his skin under my fingertips, and pulled his legs further apart. He smiled but didn't move. I wondered if he thought he was dreaming, of whose face he put on my body. I didn't care who he thought about. I just prayed he didn't remember and, if he did, that he would one day find the strength to forgive me for my one offense.

I plunged into the act and gripped his shaft in my fist. He jerked suddenly. I paused again before starting to stroke up and down his length, slowly at first. With my other hand, I began to unbuckle my own pants. I stopped to throw off my t-shirt and it quickly dawned on me that we were both naked, in our bed, and that I was going much farther than I originally intended.

The feel of his slowly-growing erection wasn't enough for me. I wanted to taste him. I cupped his balls with one hand and, kneeling in the space between his opened thighs, bent down to lick his tip. It was a timid taste. After all the liquor he'd had, he wasn't going to stay erect for very long, if at all. His blood was probably 60 percent alcohol.

He tasted salty and smooth, though he hadn't even begun to leak anything at all. What I wouldn't give for a wet dream so I could really taste him. I hadn't hoped for much. I waited another moment, constantly looking up, trying to spot changes in his smile. There were none, he still smirked sadly and it broke my heart but I kept on.

I wrapped my lips around the head of his penis and waited another second before sliding down. I was careful about teeth. I knew how much that shit hurt but I didn't stop until I could feel him in the back of my throat. I gagged a little but quickly pulled back up. That's when he shivered and gave a gentle thrust of his hips, insisting I take all I could. My lips couldn't reach the base but that didn't stop me from trying.

I began to suck and lick and my left hand reached down to my own cock, now in full salute. I could feel my orgasm coming and I liked to think Jasper could feel his in some part of his unconscious mind. I wanted to give him the release he'd come looking for, even if I wasn't what he wanted. I reached into the bedside drawer for the box of condoms I'd hidden and took a moment of attention off his dick to rip one open with one hand and my teeth. I slid it expertly over my own cock just in time for my release.

Kneeling on the bed, it was hard to keep my balance and I leaned my hand on his hipbone, now positive he wouldn't wake. I jerked and groaned at full volume, followed by a laugh. Maybe I couldn't get Jazz off but just being so close and so naked with him made up for a lot. A part of me never expected I'd get this far.

I certainly never expected his hand would reach for the wrist of the hand upon his hipbone. I didn't think he'd have such a grip left in him but I had a way of underestimating Jazz. I always thought he was the innocent little boy I was taking advantage of, a thought that had made me hate myself for years prior. Before I could even revel in my release, he had rolled me over and rested atop me. His eyes were half open, delirious, but certainly intent on mine. His expression was so tranquil and yet so sad that I felt like crying.

Still, he reached over to the box of condoms spilled all over the bedside table and slipped one on, ripping the package with his teeth as I'd done. I smirked, trying to convince myself that he was truly awake and willing. I slipped it on quickly. It was lubricated but I knew it wasn't going to do much. We'd need more if he was going to pummel into me the way I'd imagined but it didn't matter. I wasn't saying a thing. I was just going to stare up at him like the horny, lovesick idiot I was and wait for him to find my asshole.

It didn't take him long, which surprised me. Holding the same wrist, he flipped me around and was soon face to face with my ass. He had to know what he was doing, I thought. He had to. But I didn't say a thing. I got on all fours and whispered, "Do it. Just fuck me."

When his strong hands grabbed hold of my ass cheeks and pulled them apart, I thought I was going to come again. The guilt was dissipating and then, he just plunged into me as though to punish me. He didn't even bother stretching me, preparing me for his cock. He just dove in and slowly but surely, he was inside me. All the way inside me. I gritted my teeth again to hide the urge to scream. The pain was only momentary and then it was hard to imagine him not being inside me. He paused as though reconsidering it before pulling out and plunging into me again. This time, I damned my restraint to hell and gasped and groaned and called out his name.

He came and quickly pulled out, collapsing in bed beside me. I fell face down onto his pillow, continuing to gasp madly. I avoided his eyes and faced away, knowing too well the expression I'd find. I finally gulped away all the burgeoning tears and turned my head on the pillow. I came face to face with a pair of eyelids and the gentle rhythm of sleep. It didn't stop me from pretending though. His arm rounded my waist and I smiled the whole night, just watching him sleep.

That was four years ago. It was one of the last times I saw Jasper. When he woke up, he was naked in bed and I was nowhere to be found. I stumbled in later, pretending to have just left the bar. He looked at me wide-eyed and held his head of short, curly blonde hair as though trying to stop the obviously migraine from leaving him blind, deaf, and with permanent brain damage.

"What the fuck happened last night?" he asked me timidly, avoiding my eyes. I wondered if he remembered but I mentioned nothing of the act, not even my usual sexual innuendoes that I managed to fit into every conversation.

"You ran off with some chick and left me there, man. By the state of the sheets, I imagine the Texas belt worked," I answered with a fake laugh. I went to pack what little I'd brought and we left. We went back to school and we kept coming up with more and more reasons not to see each other. We were busy doing this, studying for that… it went on for years and, though we never quite lost touch because such a thing would surely kill us, I had effectively ruined the most loving relationship of my life.

This is why, when I got his email to meet up four years later, I didn't hesitate for the chance of a tiny glimpse of those blue eyes or dark blonde hair again, or the lanky limbs and chiseled muscles I'd looked for in all other men before and after Rome.

I arrived a half hour early to the café. I wasn't the same mess as I'd been in Rome. I didn't show up an hour late to a meeting anymore because I was stoned or hung over and I didn't wear the same ratty old band t-shirts and ripped-up jeans. My hair wasn't long and filthy all the time, though still hopelessly untidy, and my eyes no longer held the puppy dog love I'd once coveted so deeply. I knew very well that after that meeting, I'd be saying goodbye again and it might be another couple years. I'd accepted it.

I was an architect now. I had a little firm I loved and a steady income so I didn't have to depend on my past favors. I knew Jazz was in a competing firm and figured his bosses wanted to get some info from me or he wanted to talk blueprints. We often texted each other technical questions, nothing personal. I didn't know if he'd found someone though I thought I hoped he had. I had a mail boy named Mike who I hated but was good for a Friday-night fuck on top of the copiers. Nobody could say I didn't work late.

I expected Jazz would walk in with tubes full of plans and a large portfolio but he didn't even have his usual backpack full of crap from college. He didn't see or recognize me right away so I used the distraction to straighten out my coat and button-down shirt. I adjusted my black tie and, after a quick clearing of the throat for courage, waved at Jasper to come over.

He took a deep breath when he saw me stand and buried his hands in his jeans pockets. I was happy to see he'd changed too. He was the same tall, skinny thing but with ever so slightly broader shoulders and a neater haircut. No more Kurt Cobain locks. I kind of missed them, missed imagining how great it felt to run my hands through them unabashed.

He smiled at me and walked over, keeping a good two feet away from me as he shook my hand tightly. It already felt impersonal, too manly for my everyday taste. There had once been an era, before Rome, when he would have hugged and done the manly pats. Well, he patted. I'd just hold on a bit longer than I should have.

When he let go of my hand and slipped it back in his pocket, I waved to the little metal seat before mine and gestured him to sit. The silence quickly began but I could see something different already, not just in the physical. This was deeper. It was like his eyes were smiling without his lips' consent and his posture just screamed a sort of self-assurance that only came with a steady relationship.

"Hey man," I finally spoke. "What'd you want to talk about? You said it was big."

_Could he be coming out of the closet, maybe?_ I pondered. It was ridiculous, of course, but I didn't care. One doesn't get that posture from a relationship you have to constantly hide from the public. This was pride on his shoulder, not shame.

"Yea. But first, how are you doing? Still at Buckley's?" he replied lamely, almost all trace of his accent gone.

I rolled my eyes and waved a waitress over. I ordered for us both because Jasper never changed his coffee preferences and turned my attention back to his face. "Spit it out already," I commanded. I didn't like to beat around the bush. "You know I'm still at Buckley's and that I got that promotion last month because I texted you. You wanted to talk and drove half an hour to do so. So spill. You sick or something? You need money?"

He knew I would give him anything he wanted on the spot. He gulped and smiled, an odd combination to me but I could always make him smile even at inappropriate times. In high school, it was half the fun of biology class just to play with Jasper's expressions during bad sex ed videos.

"I've got a favor, yea… I, uh, would like the honor of having you as my best man. At my wedding."

As though that last part wasn't obvious. My eyes slowly widened and my heart felt like it wanted to hammer my ribs to death until one or the other surrendered. "Wedding? What? To whom?"

He smiled brightly as he said her name. "Alice. She's a designer friend of Rose's. We met at a Christmas party. I was Rose's date 'cause sis hates fighting off the drunken married guys at those things and the rest is history. She helped me drag Rose home and she stayed for coffee."

I chuckled. "Dear God, you actually managed to talk to a girl without setting yourself on fire."

He wouldn't it have found it so funny before but he did now. Because now he had Alice and he'd never need me again. He'd never beg for my company on lonely Friday nights or ask me advice or fuck me in his sleep in foreign hotel rooms. He'd have someone who could fulfill his every need, not just his drunken ones.

"Come on, man. I don't have any other guy friends what with all my sisters and my work friends aren't as close to me as you are. I wouldn't even think of asking anyone else."

He was begging. Why was he begging? I would have given him the fucking moon if he asked for it, even if I had to build my own rocket. He should have known that after all these years. I wouldn't have even been in Rome if it weren't for him. He was the one that liked all the old-school architecture. Give me a Gehry any day and I'll come before I even walk in the door.

I was about to say yes when he opened his fucking mouth and continued begging, "Oh and you'll love Alice's roommate. She's the bridesmaid and she's super cute. Name's Bella. She's a librarian from Washington and she looks like a really awesome girl. I think you'd benefit from a girl like that, you know."

I gaped, lips parted. It was insult enough that he asked me to practically give him away to some girl while I was doomed to spend a life of heartache and half-empty relationships. It was bad enough that he was allowed to parade around with the girl he loved, hold her, kiss her, in view of anyone without any fear whatsoever while I resorted to mail rooms and one-night stands.

But he was setting me up with a chick. He had never, in the ten years he knew me before Rome, ever seen me with a woman, never even seen me in a relationship. I knew it was irrational but I was angry at him for not knowing. He, who was supposed to be my closest friend, my brother, my one-time lover…

"Are you fucking serious?" I growled softly. The waitress brought us our coffee, saw my expression of angry disbelief, and scuttled right back to the kitchen.

"What do you mean?" he asked timidly, hiding his lips behind his coffee cup.

I shut my eyes and pretended I was alone, staring at myself in the mirror. It had been a mission to admit it to myself all those years ago. It was natural now. I forgot who I was with and just whispered, "I'm gay, Jazz. Why can't you see that? Why don't you ever see? My secret relationships, the way I fucking _look_ at you, touch you…"

I opened my eyes and found an expressionless mask instead of a face. He set down his coffee and scooted his chair back like he couldn't be far enough away from me. He bit his bottom lip and looked away, cross-armed and shaking his head.

"Fuck you," he whispered and stood up. Before I could even say anything, he had stormed out the door.

-

It was the worst two days of my life. I drowned it in beer and spent the first night sitting on the front steps of my favorite museum before the police showed up and asked me to "move along." The second day, I called in sick at work and spent it curled up in bed in my flannel pajama bottoms. I even pulled out old tapes of us in high school and middle school. I smiled at the sight of us two scrawny little things with our arms around each other's shoulders. I cried when Jazz laughed, revealing a big metal smile. He was the ugliest, most awkward little thing in those braces but I still loved him. I loved him because he was mine and nobody else would ever see how wonderful he really was.

It took me those two days to realize I was being selfish all those years I kept him purposefully naïve, occupying his every free second. I avoided images of Rome, of the length of his cock or the way his hooded, sleepy eyes saw right through me.

I'd run out of beer and junk food so I put a gray old pea coat over my plaid pajama bottoms and slippers and walked off to the little Chinese market down the block. It was raining bullets but I didn't care. I needed it to hurt. I needed to be punished, I knew, for ever closing those eyes and speaking the truth. It had been good, this slight distance. I still had him in my life, even if it was considerably less. Maybe after the wedding, we could have rekindled everything and I would have my best friend back. Maybe I would have found someone else and gotten over it.

When the rain finally slowed down enough for me to cross the street without catching pneumonia, I dragged myself back up to my apartment. The hallways and elevators were eerily empty. Most people were hiding inside from the rain. They didn't see it often so it was natural for them to hide from it. The elevator doors opened and, as soon as I turned left into my hallway, I saw the little black mass huddled in front of my door.

It was Jasper, covered in a black trench coat, his arms hugging his knees to his chest. His hair was wet and stuck to his forehead but only lightly so he hadn't caught the full force of the storm. That meant he'd been waiting outside my door for at least a half hour. I sighed, unsure of how to approach him, and walked slowly towards him. He didn't even realize it was me until he came face to face with my plaid-clad knee caps. His eyes snapped up and I realized that not only had he been crying but he was trembling fiercely. Maybe he'd caught more of the storm than I thought.

I wasn't cruel enough to let him suffer like that, not even after he rejected any shred of identity I had and turned me into this self-deprecating monster once again. We didn't say anything. I furrowed my brow, partly from the confusion of seeing him there at all, and nodded towards the door. He shot right up onto his feet and I slammed my grocery bags into his chest to hold while I opened the door. I walked right in but he lingered in the hallway as though asking for permission to enter. I realized he'd never been in my new apartment. I'd lived there three years and I'd never let him in, always choosing to meet in restaurants and clubs and those ridiculous inauguration ceremonies our firms dragged us to when we first started.

I went up to him, took the bags from his arms, and said, "Come on."

I had no plans of treating him kindly, not after the last two days of hell. He shut the door behind him and followed me to the kitchen. He sat down at the dinner table while I put away the beer and endless new supply of Pringles. I always got a barbecue-flavored one for him, even though I hated it, and tossed it to him. He caught it but set it gently down on the table instead of eating, completely ignoring the emotional symbolism. He still didn't understand, even then. He knew I slept with, and loved, men. He didn't know I slept with and loved _him_.

I groaned because I knew this was just going to be another awkward conversation. Then, he finally spoke and I was left speechless.

"I'm waiting for you to apologize," he said and I felt like strangling him.

"You're out of your fucking mind. I am what I am, Jazz. Don't talk to me, run out on me… whatever. But I'm not lying to you anymore," I defended, chugging down on a warm beer. It tasted like shit so I poured it out. I don't even know why I bothered with domestic beer. "I'm not lying to anyone."

He furrowed his brow and his eyes slowly trailed their way to me. "What?" he yelled, standing. I just leaned back against the kitchen counter, the empty beer bottle in hand. "I don't fucking care what you are, you son of a bitch! I cared that you _knew_. You knew all these years and you never told me! I was your best friend, Edward. I feel like I don't even know you!"

My anger started to dwindle. "You should have known," I replied lamely.

He just laughed with hysterical, bloodshot eyes and shouted back, "Edward, you never once introduced me to anyone you were dating, never even mentioned the word gay! It's not like you're one of those guys on TV that wear the pink shirts and have a shrine to Barbara Streisand!"

I couldn't help the chuckle. "Just don't look at my DVD collection." He didn't find it that funny. I put the beer bottle gently into the sink (loud noises were not the friend of the headache threatening to drive me mad) and said, "Is that what you think a gay man does? Worship Barbara Streisand and wear pink?"

Something flashed across his eyes. A memory. He instantly looked away from me and fumbled with his fingers. He scratched his forehead, a nervous habit of his, and turned around. "I know what you do, Edward. You screw men."

I nodded once. "Damn right. I love to fuck them. I love to wake up to them. I love it when they stick their hands down my pants in movie theaters and I love sucking cock on my knees on the floors of club bathrooms. And I would have given all that up just for you to know how I felt and for you to feel the same!"

I knew something was wrong when he didn't seem repulsed or stormed off again. I wasn't letting him go again without telling him everything, at least confessing my love for him. It had been fourteen fucking years of friendship, fourteen years of pining for a man I could never have.

"I knew," he whispered, looking down at his feet. "At least, I think I did. You see, I had this dream once. Of you and me, and for four years it's all I see when I go to bed, when I'm with Alice. And I need to know—"

I cut him off right there because I couldn't get my hopes up. "Rome," I blurted out, eyes shut tight. I could hear him walk around the dinner table towards me but I didn't move, arms tightly crossed over my chest. I didn't know what to do with them.

"Was it real?" he asked, his voice dangerously close.

I nodded. "I'm so sorry. I knew we'd be parting soon. Look how different our lives are after just four years. But I loved you and I'd wanted you for so long that I didn't care that you didn't want it too. I'm sorry."

A trembling hand rested over my heart. I dropped my arms and opened my eyes. Jasper was standing a foot away, crying. He shook his head and said, "No. That's not how I remember it."

I realized then what he meant, how he finished the act. He must have been awake but posed too many possibilities I wasn't ready for. What if he'd wanted it too?

"I'm not gay," he quickly corrected.

I shrugged. "One night with me doesn't change who you are, Jazz. Even when you thought it was a dream, you still met Alice. You still fell in love."

"Alice…" he echoed. I cautiously put a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I love Alice."

"I'm sure you do." I was sure. I saw his eyes, his composure in that café. "And I'm sure she'll make you very happy. Just don't ask me to stand up there beside you and watch you get claimed like that. Please. I would do anything for you but don't ask me that."

I must have been crying because my image of Jasper started to fuzzy up. I didn't wipe the tear away. That would mean acknowledging it existed at all and men did not cry. It's how I'd been raised.

"I love Alice," he whispered again, completely ignoring my statement. I realized it was more for him than for me. He reached up and wiped the tear away, bringing it up to his lips to taste. I froze. I'd never seen him quite so open, so close. "I love Alice… but she doesn't know me like you do."

Something gathered at my throat because I couldn't get the words to sound right. "_Nobody_ knows you like I do."

He nodded in agreement. It wasn't just a cheesy line. It was a fact, undeniable. He brought a hand up to caress my cheek and I couldn't help myself. I clutched his fingers with my left hand and grabbed the back of his neck with my right, slamming his lips to mine.

At first, his lips were reluctant, stationary. Then, as though the memory of that night in Rome were coursing through him all over again, he let his hands wander inside my coat and his lips parted, welcoming the kiss. I brought his hand to my heart on my bare chest. He was trembling so terribly that it almost felt like kissing a vibrator. His whole body convulsed against mine and we'd barely moved off the kitchen counter.

I took what little of the kiss I'd expected and pushed him off. "I'm sorry," I squeaked, trying to recapture my breath. "All I ever seem to do is take advantage."

Jazz gulped and brought his free hand to his lips. His eyes were wide as saucers and I couldn't help smooth the sticky tendrils of hair back off his forehead. I smiled at him lovingly, just ecstatic to have him in my arms like that, his hand over my heart. Finally, he could feel how I felt in full force. Well, not exactly. At least, not yet.

"I'm not saying no," he finally managed to blurt out, swallowing down a huge dose of guilt.

"You don't have to. I'm saying no for you."

He shook his head quickly, splashing me with water off his hair. "You don't get it Edward," he said with a new conviction. "You're such a self-deprecating ass that you'd never consider I might want it too. I'm not saying I'm giving up all I have. I'm just saying I don't want to leave this apartment without knowing completely, without a doubt, what it's like to be loved by you."

I knew everything about Jasper. He was an open book, more or less. I didn't expect he'd know everything about me as well. After all, he'd missed the fact that I was gay. But, as I kept reminding myself, that was not all there was to me. I was a maze of emotions and twisted logic. I was self-deprecating, that was for sure, but I was also loving and devoted and I wondered if Jazz saw all that beneath that façade I'd worn for years.

Something about his smile told me he did. It was the way he looked at me, like something had clicked inside him and he could now see all the love my eyes held only for him. And, what's more, his love mirrored my own.

I took his hand like we were childhood sweethearts and pulled him towards the bedroom down the hall. The bed was unmade and still a little warm from all my fetal positioning the last twelve hours. We stood side my side, staring down at the sheets. His hands were still trembling.

I turned to him. "You're cold."

"I'm terrified," he confided with a breathless laugh.

"Of what?"

"Of what this might mean. About me. About us."

I let of his hand and walked up behind him. I pulled his coat off and folded it up a bit before throwing it onto my chair by my architect's desk. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans below that stuck to his skin with water, tracing all the muscles of his back. I slowly but firmly ran my hands down his back to the rim of his shirt. I slid my hands beneath and started to pull it up over his head. He lifted his arms in the air and the shirt came right off.

It hadn't been this easy in Rome. I didn't have to keep pausing every few minutes. I could be myself, the confident sexual persona I had built after years of anonymous or meaningless sex. I had once blamed Jasper for not being able to find someone to love. I never realized that maybe all those encounters were just meant to prepare me for _him_. He needed someone experienced to guide him through. It might as well have been his first time and the idea had me smiling.

I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, going to unzip his pants, when his hands stopped mine. He gulped but I could tell by the way he shoved my hand down his pants to grab his erection that he wasn't afraid of the act itself. After all, he'd done it once before, whether he remembered it well or not. His body never forgot and, unlike me, he didn't hate himself for wanting to remember everything again.

He gasped when I started to caress his cock, not even grasping him the right way. "Go slowly," he pleaded but I knew how fast he liked it. This time, I had no regrets or guilt, not even knowing Alice was waiting somewhere for him to get back, probably worried that he'd gotten caught in the storm.

I pulled my hand from his pants and turned him around, just to see his face again and knew this was real. Every emotion that crossed his eyes was new to me. He was seeing the real me and I was seeing the scared boy I first met in middle school. It was deliciously endearing. I looked down at my coat and pajama bottoms. I gave him a look that begged him to take it all off. He needed to do it for himself, to gain the confidence to come back.

His hands found my collar and pushed the gray coat back off my shoulders. It fell to the ground unceremoniously. Next, his eyes fell on the elastic waistband on my pajama bottoms. His hands slid under the waistband and cupped my ass, pressing my crotch to his. I was just a bit taller so I had to bend over a little to kiss him. This time, it was like a mutual spark was reignited and before I knew it, our pants were puddles on the floor and his erection was rubbing with mine. Our arms were wrapped around each other, touching, exploring… Every sensation felt new and heightened by the emotional intimacy we'd shared all those years.

My kisses led me to his ear and I couldn't help but whisper, "You have no idea how beautiful you are to me."

He didn't say anything, still uncomfortable with such a level of honesty, but grabbed my ass hard enough to draw blood. I must admit. I liked it. He wasn't soft and timid anymore, despite his inexperience with other men. He was methodical but certain of each step once he did it once, desperate to learn. Of course. I had learned my method from him, just applied it to different areas. Like the bit of neck just below his ear which I now kissed and nibbled.

I was tired of foreplay, wanted to dive into the full man. I wanted to tell him but was afraid that such forward instructions might turn him off. He preferred being in control in Rome. He saw my reluctance to speak in my hesitant kisses over his chest and stopped me. He could read me without me ever having to speak, knew every emotion in my book and how to draw out the right ones.

"What is it?" he asked, starting to wonder just what doubts were going through my mind now.

I smirked. "I don't know how to tell you what I want."

"How much communication do you need? Last time you did this, I was drunk shitless."

I laughed and agreed. So, I leaned into his ear and whispered, "I want to wrap your legs around my neck and suck you off till you can't stop the spasms or calling out my name. And I want to ram you and make you come at the same time. And I want you to tell me everything you want and everything you feel, all the time."

His cheeks turned fire red but I'd learn later that it was pure arousal rather than embarrassment. I could have said anything and he would not have been embarrassed. It was just him and me in a room, I reminded myself. The goal was ultimate pleasure. How one got there was irrelevant.

So, I pushed him back on the bed and kissed my way up from his right knee to his inner thigh to his balls and lifted them up to kiss his opening. He shivered but I only laughed. I remembered he'd never been penetrated and decided to start slow. I got a new condom off my floor because they were always thrown on one surface of the house or the other, hidden in cookie jars and beneath papers and welcome mats. I rarely used the bed.

I slapped one on either of us, not that I wasn't completely sure Jasper was as clean, if not cleaner, than I, and raised a finger to my lips. He saw where this was going and drew up his knees, spreading them. I suddenly had the most beautiful view a gay man could ever want. I licked my finger and walked it up and down his opening before gently running it inside. He let out a low sting of profanities and arched his back immediately. He lifted his knees up even further off the bed, giving me full access. One finger still inside him, I reached for the bottle of lube under the bed and started pouring it over my hand. I wanted at least four fingers in before attempting it with my cock. I was hard as a rock and certainly wider, not longer, than he was.

With the lube, it was easier. I was quickly three fingers in but he had already begun to convulse with orgasm. I sped up my jabbing motions and wrapped my hand around his cock, running it up and down as I entered him from below. He came with only three fingers and I figured that was enough to try full cock. I stood on my knees and hooked his legs up on my shoulders. I moved my cock in place and maneuvered the head in. I pushed in slowly and delighted in the way his cock and balls bounced with my jabbing motions. He reached down and grabbed himself as I began to speed up my poundings. The apartment echoed with the slaps of skin to skin. Faster and faster and faster…

When we both finished, I went to pull out but he stopped me and asked me to wait there for a moment. "I like being filled by you," he confessed.

I quickly regained my arousal but did as ordered and stayed. I lowered his legs around me and fell forward, exhausted, onto his chest. He stroked my hair without a single reservation, smiling all the while. This was the most loved I'd felt since he wrapped his arms around my bare waist in Italy and fell asleep. Or passed out. My memory falters somewhat on the event though the feeling it gave was still crystal clear in my heart.

His breathing was quickened and his abdomen clenched and unclenched beneath me so I asked, "You okay?"

He nodded, staring up wildly at the ceiling. I made a note to myself to put a mirror up there if he ever decided to do it again. "That was… uh, wow."

"Wow? That's it? You're such a product of the nineties. Use your words, love."

He continued to stare up at the ceiling, arms limp on the bed around us, and whispered, "That was the most intense experience of my life."

I snorted. "Might I remind you of the first day you discovered porn. That was pretty big. They had to call your mom to bring you a change of pants at summer camp 'cause you used them all up in like a week."

He burst out with laughter, the most I'd heard from him since long before Rome. "No, jerkward. I meant more like my first kiss or the first time I went to the country with Dad and saw the open night sky."

I smiled, suddenly reminded how much history we truly had and the horrible mistake I'd made keeping my feelings to myself all these years. Even if he was bisexual and even if I only had him for these little trysts, I was fucking content. Or content fucking. Whichever you prefer.

I gave him a moment to rest and control his heart before we started up again. And again. And again. I kissed him for a whole five minutes at the door. The next door neighbor came out walk her dog and caught us. She saw me with a different guy every other week but she saw the difference in this one, in the way we wrapped our arms around each other and smiled and caressed each other's faces slowly as though unsure everything was real.

I expected Jasper to freak out about being seen kissing another man but the neighbor just shot us a smirk, blushed, and went on her way to the park across the street. Jasper soon followed and she held the elevator door open for him. I opened my windows for the first time and realized it was now daylight. I had work to do, people to see, things to sketch, and a man to fuck later that week.

-

Jasper rarely called. He just showed up. He knew my schedule, which rarely faltered, and how long each thing took. He apparently bought books about different techniques and spent a few hours researching porn. He gave up on the porn because he said they took too long to get to the point. I laughed at this of course and waited for him to ring my door at all hours, as usual.

As a result, I really didn't have much time for a social life, not that I regretted it. When one spends one's whole life dreaming about one's best friend, it helps not to complain once one has obtained said friend and is screwing him three times a week. I knew it was wrong. I knew he still went home to Alice every night, especially when he stopped us halfway through a typical romp to go home and finish off with her.

But I never thought of her. I was selfish. I had suffered for too long with my secret desire and thought I deserved this little time of happiness. I guess, in my mind, I always knew it couldn't last. As selfish as I was, I wanted him to be happy above all else and convinced myself that, as long as he was with me, this was true.

Months passed and, even though we never left my apartment, we managed to leave the bed. He always came to me with some request, maybe a toy, but my favorites times were when he said nothing at all and just walked to find me on the couch, tired. When I didn't pay attention to him, he sat on my lap and started flipping channels until I rolled him off me, laughing.

I expected this would be one of those days. It was raining out and he rarely wanted to do anything when it rained, except eat dinner in quiet. I heard a timid knock on the door and figured he had his hands full with groceries. I chuckled and pulled on a pair of boxers in case it was my neighbor's teenage daughter again, asking for her third cup of sugar this week, just trying to catch a glimpse of the two gay nudists next door.

My sordid affair had been reduced to a peep show in a matter of five little months. Fantastic.

I open the door slightly, not even bothering to look if it was him, because the microwave was beeping. "Honey, we should really talk about getting you a key," I said with a laugh, running to get the popcorn out before the beeping drove me mad. It and alarm clocks were the bane of my existence.

A mousy voice came from the open doorway. I quickly realized it wasn't Jasper and snapped around, bouncing the steaming bag of popcorn from hand to hand before dropping it on the counter. At first I thought it was my neighbor but she swung the door open a bit more and I saw her fully then, the little creature in the little black dress with long black hair. She was absolutely gorgeous and, by the color of her eyes and her short stature and the picture in Jasper's wallet, I recognized her immediately.

"I'm sorry. I must be in the wrong place," she said in a soft-spoken voice and began to turn. I ran around the kitchen table to stop her.

"You're Alice," I shouted and she froze. She turned around slowly and her eyes began to water.

"How do you… uhm… They told me at the front desk that I might find Jasper Hale here."

I let out a jagged laugh. She looked me up and down, things starting to click inside her head. I couldn't answer so I just stepped aside and waved her in. After she sat down, I took the sofa across from her and stared, mesmerized by her presence in my inner sanctum with Jasper.

"You're Edward, aren't you?" she asked, her voice breaking ever so slightly.

I nodded slowly and finally regained my voice with a squeaky, "Yes."

"Where is he?"

I looked to the door. "He'll be here any moment. He got stuck in traffic. Are you… Do you know? Did he tell you?"

She shook her head and the first tear ran free. I reached around for a box of tissues and handed it to her. She took a single tissue but just stared at it in her lap, in her trembling hands. "I knew. I saw the bruises. I followed him just to prove to myself I had nothing to worry about but… I never imagined _this_."

I remembered the other night, the bruises she meant. They were thumb prints on his inner thighs. I was usually very careful. I hadn't left a mark on him in five months, though Alice could surely see every bite, scratch, and even cut on my body.

"He loves you," I told her honestly. "I know you're not going to believe it because of how this looks but he loves you. What he does with me doesn't change that."

Her shoulders began to shake as she held back the tears. "Damn it!" she shouted, the tears flowing freely. "I know who you are! He used to talk about you all the time when we first started going out. You were his best friend growing up. I got one look at you and I knew who you were. He never told me you were—"

I cleared my throat and finished for her. "Gay."

"He never told me he was gay either. It wouldn't have stopped me from loving him. He should have said." Her voice was cracking again. I handed her the box of tissues again and tried to keep my distance. The more I heard her speak, the more I could see the kind person seeping through. "And I wish so desperately that I could be angry with him but maybe I forced him into your arms because I couldn't see that he wanted out. I didn't even have a clue until I saw the bruises. Up until you opened that door, I was happy."

It should have shocked me but I had been expecting this moment for months. I had never expected it to work. It took me five months to even consider the possibility of doing this forever. It's what made every day so special.

I leaned in and explained, "You didn't miss anything, Alice, because he always loved you. He was with me because we had missed our chance when we were younger. It was a different age and society would never have understood. It was also my fault because I was never honest with him, just because I was afraid of losing him. It's the reason he didn't tell you. We owed it to ourselves to try and I regret no part of the last five months. And while I have no doubt in my mind that he loves me just as strongly as he loves you, I know that he would never give us up. I knew it was just a matter of time before we'd have to make a choice for him."

"You mean he doesn't need to know," she whispered, "that I was ever here."

"He loves us both. But he has a chance to live a full life with you. You're good to him, for him. You can leave your damn apartment without fear, hold his hand in public, kiss him whenever you want to… If he had never met you, things would have been different. I would fight the devil himself to keep him but you are the better of us two. I'm sure you understand that all I've ever wanted is for him to be happy."

She nodded and finally wiped away the tears. "He'll never be happy if you disappear," she said, standing. "I think I'd like it very much if you could still come to the wedding."

I was quite sure it would kill me a thousand times over to watch him go off happily without me but I didn't care. Not only had Alice invited me but I couldn't stand it if anyone else stood on his left at the front of that altar. I agreed but she could see the pain just under the surface, making my hands tremble on the doorknob. She leaned up to give me a kiss on the cheek and left.

Though I was selfish, I was not greedy. I always knew I was meant to love one man. I was positive I had found that in Jasper, that I would never find another replacement for him. I would go on as before with partner after partner, a life built on one-night stands. And if I should find someone new, it would never erase what Jasper and I had because what we had was never about the sex. It was the intimacy.

So I waited fearlessly for the end I had foreseen.

I knew that he'd walk in soon with armfuls of groceries and smile at me and I'd have to tell him I didn't want to do this anymore. I'd have to lie and give him a half-dozen lousy excuses but he'd know and, if our plan went well and Alice kept her promise to love him as she'd done so far, he would one day thank me for letting him go.

I'd left the door open so he came right in, humming a silly commercial jingle and smiling just as I'd seen in my head. He saw my expression and the tissues forgotten atop the coffee table and the smile started to dwindle. It broke what little heart I had left but I still gestured for him to sit.

I took a deep breath and said, "We need to talk."

-----

_Before you start nitpicking the ending, you should probably know that this is something that happened in my own life. So shush. And yea, I was totally Edward. At least I got a nice angsty story out of it. I hope you enjoyed it. _

**Reviews are love.**

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**EDIT: **Due to various requests and my own fangirlish ways, I have continued this story for a second part. It's posted on my LJ so there's no confusion with the Slash Backslash contest. Link is on my profile.


	2. Part Two: THE END

"**Modern Affairs" - PART TWO**

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_So... voting's begun for the Slash Backslash contest and I figure it's okay to post the second part now. I'm up against some really well-known names in slash so I'd appreciate any little help you can give me. As a bribe, here's the "happy ending" you've been asking for. GO VOTE!_

(Click on the link on my profile under the awards category and click "Vote Now!" at the top right. Check the box for Modern Affairs and click Vote!)

**-----**

I considered myself a happy guy. Sure, there were aspects of my life I couldn't control which caused immeasurable moments of sadness, but those were passing. They were often drowned out with alcohol and meaningless, casual sex with coworkers. I was pretty good at dealing with the everyday, with coping. It was large, life-altering moments that clung to my heart and sucked the life from me.

Jasper's wedding had been the worst of these.

He'd been freaking out all over the place and asked me to cling to him like glue. It'd been two months since we ended our affair so the wounds were still fresh. I didn't have an Alice to go home to so I just swallowed my feelings, but this was a wedding so the booze wouldn't come until at least another two hours of biblical rhetoric.

I hadn't been asked to do much to help the wedding though I would have been more than happy to do so. I wanted _him_ to be happy. I broke up with him for this very reason. I'd had five whole months of laughter, love, and sex with the man I loved. It had been enough for a lifetime and I wasn't asking for more. Alice understood this.

She was a great actress. When Jazz brought me home for the first time after I _finally_ agreed to be his best man, she shook my hand and introduced herself as though we'd never met. She shot me sad, knowing glances when he wasn't looking. It was the first time I had ever seen pity. I had known disgust, desire, indifference, even outright hate. I had never been pitied. I forgave it because I knew it came from a guilty place.

Jazz went to get us a bottle of wine for dinner. I asked to stay to help her finish cooking. Truthfully, I just didn't want to be alone with him. It'd have been the equivalent of purposefully locking myself in the lion's cage. No thank you. I even offered to fetch it for us but he insisted. Jazz was useless in the kitchen anyway since he'd had a battalion of women around him since he was born, ready and able to cook anything his little heart desired. I was on my own practically since birth so I could at least boil water like the best of them. I watched her from afar and fetched her things when she needed them. I more or less knew my way around their kitchen.

She didn't really like to talk, much like Jazz. She did so only when asked something and then, she was beyond enthusiastic. She was like an Energizer bunny with an on and off switch. She was perfect for Jazz.

I sat on the counter like I owned the place and watched her check the chicken breasts in the oven. She continued to stir some bubbly white sauce in a pan and talked softly about one thing or another. I wasn't paying much attention to the conversation since it seemed pretty one-sided. She noticed and shot me a quick smirk, stopping completely. I wasn't interested so she moved on, despite how hard we'd all attempted not to talk about our pasts altogether.

"He wanted us to have this dinner, you know," she said after a moment of silence, continuing to stir in a slow, steady rhythm.

That sure as fuck caught my attention. I straightened right up. We were going to be brave and talk about it, about us. "He told me _you_ wanted to meet me before the wedding," I replied.

She shook her head and smiled. She took the sauce off the stovetop and explained. "He hadn't talked about you in a month. He usually talks about you a couple times a week, tells me when you call or something platonic like that. I catch him drifting off a lot. He gets all pensive and smiles to himself and I know he's thinking of you. He copies your smirk to a tee. A week ago, we were at a fashion show for a friend of mine and he was his usual self, nothing special. He hadn't seen you for a while, I knew, but I thought he was finally getting over you, you know? Then this jerk named James from my friend's design team comes up and starts flirting with me while Jasper's getting us drinks."

"And Jazz didn't do anything?" I interrupted.

She shook her head again and checked on the chicken for the third time in five minutes, her little nervous tick. She smiled brighter at my reaction but still avoided my eyes. Was it the pity or the guilt, I wondered. I never really got an answer but she eventually got over it.

She continued, "He didn't really notice. He was on the other side of the room, but he's coming back and James has me cornered against a wall! Guess what he does."

"Politely interrupts and pulls you away?" I offered.

She laughed and nodded. "So we're walking away and James says something about my clothing line, something I didn't even hear, and Jazz turns around and decks James across the face! James comes crashing down and I'm just standing there, wondering how much ice I'm going to need to keep his hand from blowing up like a balloon or what I'd do if he broke a knuckle. We leave and, in the car, I ask him why he did it. He says, 'It's what Edward would have done,' and that's when we decided I need to get to know you better. The dinner was his suggestion."

I started cackling halfway through her story. I just kept imagining Jasper doing anything even remotely violent and had to slide off the counter to keep from falling forward with laughter. "God, I wish I could have been there."

"So did I," she sadly admitted and my laughter slowly ceased. I walked towards her and held her hand reassuringly.

"How are you and Jazz doing? Has he changed?" I asked. I wasn't sure I wanted to know but I felt I had to ask. I felt like Alice was an extension of Jazz and thus, instantly trusted her. I couldn't really ask Jazz how he was doing without admitting to still wanting him desperately but I could ask Alice.

"He's still Jazz," she said. "You were right, I guess. He didn't suddenly become more affectionate or drift away. He's the same as he was with you so I have to believe he does love me. He hides his feelings but you and I both know he would have changed if he didn't care about me. How 'bout you? I can take care of Jazz but who takes care of you?"

I smirked and joked, "Mike the mail boy."

She burst out laughing and put her hand on my chest to steady herself, shaking her head. "No, you nymphomaniac! I mean actually taking care of you."

I shrugged. "Nobody's ever taken care of me, Al, not even Jazz. I'm a lone wolf."

Her laughter got louder, melodic. "You poor puppy! It's your own fault, you know!"

"I know! I know! But I don't want anybody."

The pity came rushing back into her eyes. "Anybody else?" she finished for me. I shot her my cockiest one-sided smirk. "Are you just going to go on for the rest of your life pining for him?"

I rolled my eyes and let go of her hand, backing up one large step. "I'm not pining, Al. I don't want to spend my life with anyone! Why is that so hard to believe? I like having Mike the mail boy and Ben the upstairs neighbor and the cute redhead from last night's club in my life. I like pleasure. I'm complete with it. If it gets lonely, I just go out again."

The little girl who'd showed up at my door had gone. She was more like Jazz than I imagined. She deeply cared about everyone around her. Unlike Jazz, she actually did something about it. "And do what? Hook up? Get drunk? Take whatever powdered shit they have in the back room? Jazz has told me how you live! He's constantly worried about you, especially now that you obviously don't talk as much anymore."

Jazz had not said anything about my night-time habits. He made jokes about my past partners but never made his disappointment known. I hadn't gone out when we were together, even though we never said we'd be exclusive. It was obvious that he had Alice but I had never made any promise to be with him alone. I tried to think back on all those casual goodbyes, his expression every time he left me. There had been a tinge of worry there that I always chalked up to his situation with Al and her inevitable discovery. I never thought it might be worry over my well-being, whether he came back the next day just to check to make sure I was still alive.

Alice could see the realization on my face and let me work it out in quiet. "I think I need to talk to him," I whispered.

She nodded and waved towards the door. "He'll be coming up soon. I'd hurry and catch him in the hallway before he gets to the door."

"You gonna be okay?" I asked her before I left, making sweeping motions with my arm.

She smiled sweetly and reworded my question. She was blunt. I liked it. "You mean is it okay to talk to my fiancé when I'm not in the room? Am I constantly worried that you're going to pick up the affair right where you left off?" I nodded, my cheeks suddenly warm. She scoffed. "Of course, dumbass! I'm going to spend the rest of my life worried about that. Lucky for me, I know you're the only one he'd ever leave me for and you have more morals – twisted as they may be – than even he does. So go on. I fucking trust you. I guess."

I laughed and went. I waited in the only elevator, positive he wouldn't take the stairs. We were on the sixth floor and he'd probably be carrying booze, if he hadn't drunk it all already. I certainly would have. People got on and off but I remained. It reached the first floor and there he was. He lit up when he saw me leaned up against the back wall, my arms crossed with that odd expression of frustration I got whenever I worked out a speech.

"What, you weren't leaving, were you?" he asked.

He stepped inside and pressed the sixth floor button, not waiting for an answer. He wasn't going to let me leave. I didn't plan to. I hit the emergency stop button and took the brown paper bag out of his arm. I set it down on the floor and he suddenly got the severity of the situation. I wanted to have a serious talk. He exhaled and leaned up against the opposite wall, as far away as possible.

"Something changed," he said. "Is this about us?"

I realized how it looked. We hadn't been so close in a while, certainly not so alone. The sexual tension was never going to leave. Even though I was pretty sure I was having an epiphany, I couldn't help but notice the way his shirt clung to him or the way it lifted up and revealed two beautiful, protruding hip bones when he scratched the back of his head nervously. I cleared my throat and he got the hint to stop it. He lowered his arm, securing them behind his back, and fixed his eyes on my shoes.

"Has something happened?"

I shook my head. "No, hon. I just wanted to know something. It doesn't change a thing, okay. I just want to know." He gulped and his eyes shot back up to me. I continued, "When we were together, did you ever think I was seeing someone else?"

"What?" he asked with a laugh.

"I'm serious. Alice told me that you worry about me. Is that true?" I insisted, seconds away from gritting my teeth like an animal. "IS IT TRUE?"

"YES!" he shouted back, stepping forward. The anger he'd been hiding exploded out of his pores at my persistence. "I fucking loved you but you never said I was the only one! You never hid any of your little games before we were together. Then you stopped talking and I couldn't tell you how much I wished things had changed, that _you'd_ changed. I couldn't ask you that when I had Alice. And then you break it off, claiming it wasn't working, and I'm left wondering if you just weren't getting enough from me, whether you needed more than I alone could ever give you. Admit it, Edward! You're just not a one-man man."

I was furious but I couldn't help the chuckle at the last part. I quickly sobered up but the whole thing was ridiculous. I opened my mouth to correct him but I couldn't. I just gaped at him like a fish underwater, desperate for air. I wanted him to know the truth. I couldn't stand the lie anymore but Alice's little face flashed in my head, her smile especially. I couldn't hurt her now.

"I don't want you to worry about me," I honestly replied. It was the best I could do without correcting him, without opening up old wounds.

"How the fuck do you want me to do that, Edward? Tell me."

I smirked because I absolutely loved this new aggressiveness. If this had been a few months ago, I would have thrown him up against the wall and ripped his pants off.

"What if I promise to stop?" I whispered. "What if I stopped going out and fucking everything I see? What if I lock up the booze and stopped the drugs? Would you stop worrying?"

He just scoffed and backed away. I instantly longed for the closeness again. I wanted to start another fight just to get this level of emotion out of him. Even after that week he decided to give S&M a try, it wasn't this real, this intense. He had to have been bottling it up for a while.

"Edward, I would never ask that of you."

His response caught me off guard so I closed the space for him. "Why the fuck not? It's not like it's an unreasonable request."

"Man, I've always known you care about me. I knew you'd do anything I asked. It's mutual, always will be, but you don't have relationships. You don't know how and you never wanted to learn. Look at _us_! The only way I could keep you as long as I did was by locking you up in that apartment. You like sex, Ed. It's how you compensate for not having all the other crap."

I wished I could say anything about that but it was true. It was the exact same conversation I'd had with Alice, only he knew my point and defended me and my right to fuck whoever I wanted. What's worse, he offered me a different scenario. I'd always thought we'd stayed at the apartment because he couldn't risk being seen with me. I didn't think it had anything to do with my habits. For just a flicker of a moment, I pondered whether or not maybe we could have worked out, in public.

"What do you want me to do then?"

He closed his eyes and said, "Tell me about it. You used to tell me everyone you fucked like you were telling me what you'd had for lunch. We broke off what we had and you just stopped talking about it like it was going to change something. I never cared who you fucked! Just talk to me! Tell me the truth, tell me where you'll be so I know where to look when you don't make it home again!"

I gulped, remembering that morning I'd woken up in Fort Worth. I had to call Jazz from a gas station to come pick me up because I couldn't find my phone. Since then, I've been a bit more careful. I still had no clue how I got there, only that I'd walked a large part and hadn't slept with anyone. As long as I remembered who I slept with, I knew I was being safe. That was the most important thing. No condom, no ride on my disco stick. Period. Not even with Jasper.

"Deal," I answered. It took him by surprise. He expected me to complain and demand my independence now that we weren't together anymore. If one of us had been a chick, this conversation would have taken a completely different turn.

"What do you mean deal?"

"I mean I'll follow your rules. I'll cut down on the crazy shit, just enough to keep me fun but safe and the rest, I'll tell you about. You sure though? The instant it gets sick, you better fucking tell me or I disappear completely. This thing we have, this friendship, is the only relationship I would never give up on. All these years, all these arguments and ugly truths, we never lose touch for long."

Something I said made him jump. "Never give up on…" he echoed softly. I wondered then if he knew. He could read me like no one else. The way his eyes grew large and he stared, mesmerized. I was forced to avoid the beautiful blue I loved. It just fueled his suspicions.

The confidence he'd developed from his relationship with Alice, this new fierceness he developed after his relationship with me… it resurfaced and he rode the wave. This little back and forth, advance and retreat dance we'd had for the last ten minutes suddenly reached an ending and he pinned me against the wall.

"You still love me," he said with a triumphant smile. "I knew it."

His eyes were suddenly like sapphires, brilliant. I stopped breathing, praying my heartbeat didn't give me away. I was sure the entire floor could hear it.

"Of course I love you. I never said I didn't. I said we weren't working. That was it," I confessed. I might as well have kept quiet. He had no interest in my mouth's ability to emit sound. He leaned in slowly, his smile increasing. I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth, praying he'd realize I was unwilling and stopped.

He didn't, of course. That would have meant my life was easy and not this fucked up mess I'd built for myself. He undid the top button of my jeans with one hand, a trick I'd taught him, and slid down the zipper. His hand slipped inside and stroked my length so slowly that I had to hold my breath and purse my lips to control myself. My palms were flat against the metal wall but I could have sworn my nails went right through. I couldn't move.

His other hand caressed the stubble on my jaw. He traced my bottom lip with his thumb and I exhaled, succumbing to him. I cursed to myself but my hands remained clawed. He pulled my cock out and went to kiss my jaw, avoiding my unwilling lips. I knew he wouldn't go further unless I gave him the go-ahead, even a tiny kiss back or a moan. I had to remind him, and myself, of why we broke it off in the first place.

"Alice is right outside this elevator, Jazz. You forget about her?"

It was a low blow but it was necessary. He stiffened but reached to cup my balls nonetheless. It was freezing in the elevator so his cold hands on the warmest part of my anatomy were making me edgy. I made a note not to make him angry. If he squeezed anything too hard, I was going to be walking funny for a month.

"No, I didn't fucking forget about her. I never did. That was you. You never cared that I was with her. What changed, Edward? What did I do?"

I had the sudden desire to cry. It was all over my face and it made him drop all of me, instantly. I couldn't tell him. I still couldn't tell him.

He apologized and backed away again. He turned his back to me to face the buttons while I put everything back in my pants, zipped up, and straightened my shirt. I cleared my throat to give him the OK and he unlocked the elevator. I picked up the wine off the floor. The doors opened and we walked back to dinner. Alice was waiting, the table set. She was looking through Jazz's CDs for something but abandoned everything when she saw us come in.

"You two good?" she asked, glancing at me for an explanation. My tired, hooded eyes gave her the answer. If I'd gotten some in an elevator, I would have been a hell of a lot happier, maybe even a little lushy.

"We're good," I answered. "We made a deal. Though if I'm gonna be cutting back on the sex, I expect a lot more dinners out of you two. Gotta keep my mind occupied somehow."

Jazz still looked deathly and walked past me to kiss Alice hello. Strangely enough, it didn't make me jealous. I liked Alice. I gave a sharp laugh and Jazz snapped to face me. "What?" he demanded sourly.

"You guys are cute together," I said, going to sit at the table. He wasn't amused.

They followed and the mindless conversations continued. I didn't pay much attention to those either until Jasper decided to be a vindictive ass and ask, "So Edward. You seeing anyone?"

I nearly choked on a mouthful of linguini. Alice dropped her utensils and moved her hands and eyes to her lap. "You'd be the first to know, honey," I replied, just as cruelly. He thought the conversation was for Alice but she just looked like she wanted to get out there.

"No, come on. Don't be shy. Alice has a gay cousin. She gets it."

I bit the inside of my cheeks to keep from jumping to my feet and decking him. Alice beat me to it. She stood and threw her arms in the air in exasperated surrender. "Oh would you just get over it!" she shouted, playing her part. I was proud of her. "Was is it going to take for you two to get over this stupid sexual tension you've got left over from when you were kids?"

Jazz's eyes widened. "Alice!" he shouted. He still didn't get that she knew. She knew everything, that is wasn't just since we were kids and it wasn't left over. It was still active and trying to claim the last bit of my soul I'd managed to retain.

"What? You're allowed to be rude and inappropriate and I'm not? Edward said it, Jazz. We're too alike for our own good. And you're right. I fucking get it. So tell me. What changed? What more can I do?"

"How'd you know?" Jazz asked, barely audible. His eyes flew around all over the place, searching his memory for something that had given him away.

Alice lied. All we knew to do was lie. "I know you. I knew it the instant you both walked through that door this afternoon. You're like two teenagers."

Jazz shook his head and stood too. "And you're just okay with that?" he screeched.

He was getting louder, angrier. He couldn't understand what Alice and I did, that loving more than one person was normal and that it didn't endanger what he and Alice had. We just had to end so that he and Alice could live their lives on their own. It just never occurred to me that Alice really didn't mind that Jasper wanted me or even that I wanted him right back. Maybe she knew she'd always win.

"You're the only one in this room who gives a damn," I answered for her.

I stood too and rounded the table. I wrapped an arm around Alice's waist and, against everything I knew to be true, brought my lips to hers.

I saw her as a softer, smaller version of Jazz and that seemed to help. Jasper had to be able to tell how uncomfortable I was doing this but he didn't intervene right away. Alice barely moved her lips but it was enough to fake it. I didn't pull away, crushing her chest to mine. She was so small that I thought she was going to slip out of my arms and float away.

It took him a minute or two to respond but he did. He took my arm and pulled me off her. I expected to see him angry and hurt. He wasn't. He was just tired of pretending.

"Stop," he whispered, pleading me with his eyes. "Don't take this out on her."

Then, Alice surprised me. She caressed Jasper's cheek and pulled him down to her for a much more passionate kiss. I watched and waited for Alice's permission. She broke away from him and looked from one to the other, her two favorite boys. It was the most painful kiss of my life because I knew what it meant – nothing – but I did it nonetheless.

I kissed Jasper, tenderly and slowly, as his fiancé watched.

She let out a tiny moan and then, the frenzy began. We crashed, all three of us. It was an odd tangle of arms and legs and kisses in even odder areas that were never otherwise sensuous like arms and the middle of the back, just so we had something to do with our lips. We started tearing our own clothes off because it was too confusing to coordinate who'd take off whose.

Alice was the first to move towards the couch in the corner that looked like it belonged in a shrink's office. All she had to do was slip off those straps on her little dress and she was down to a strapless bra and panties, both a jaunty yellow. I was still working on my socks, hopping around on one foot. Jasper pulled off his pants quickly and I noticed his arousal was almost at full force. Of course, to him, this was all very natural. He'd been with women _and_ men. Alice had been with all sorts of men, no doubt.

But I had never been with a woman.

Sure, I knew the basic anatomy and what everything did. I went to public school after all and you learn the rest from an orgy or two here and there but I'd just watched before. I'd never joined in. I lingered back, one sock still on. I looked at them as Alice lied back on the couch and Jasper slid slowly down atop her, lining their bodies up. I wasn't sure where I was supposed to go except behind Jasper. Alice looked up at me, beckoning me over. I could see my own fear mirrored in her eyes.

"Come," she whispered, extending a hand up to me. I crossed the living room and bent down to kiss her upside-down quickly, if only to thank her for this one last release. I hadn't expected my last time with Jasper to be my last time so the memory was unclear and our bodies hadn't registered the goodbye. This was it.

She understood my naiveté with the female form and looked from me to Jasper to me again, signaling me to take care of him and him alone. I kissed her again, another thanks, as Jasper watched on his knees, straddling her. I ran my hands up Jasper's spine. He shivered and looked back over his shoulder. I trailed my kisses from his lips to his jaw to that spot he liked beneath his ear.

I quickly understood that this was not a regular threesome the likes of which I'd seen in many late-night porn sessions. The point was not the girl. It was Jazz. He took care of Alice and I took care of him. Nobody needed to take care of me. I'd never needed anyone else.

He slowly bent over and started these slow circling motions on her crotch, moving the underwear aside to reveal her sex to better rub at her clit between sloppy, slippery kisses. My cheeks caught fire at the sight, not that I was necessarily quite aroused yet and there wasn't much I could do without lube. I ran my hands up and down his sides and when he bent over, I bent over him and reached around his hip for his cock, stroking up and down as he began fingering Alice without the slightest warning. He fit right in and used his thumb to keep massaging what I imagined was her clit. It was so small and completely outside her opening so I had no idea how women got off at all.

I had to hand it to them though. They came with their lube built in. I heard Jasper whisper in her ear, "Baby, you're so wet," and paused my strokes for a moment. I had never heard those words uttered during sex outside of a shower. Usually, it went more like, "Baby, you're so big," or "Ah, stop! It hurts! It hurts!"

Jazz had to be doing something right because she started to thrash about and moan. I'd never heard a man moan like that. Everything was new and strange, since I was used to seeing this on a computer screen and usually only for two minutes before all the guys came along and took it over. Her pitch was higher than a man's, obviously, but it just made everything seem more erotic. It sounded like Jazz was sincerely rocking her fucking world. I was envious and leaned forward to kiss his neck, calling for a little attention.

Alice arched her back, pushing his fingers deeper into her. He was in all four fingers while his thumb kept making circles over the fleshy part at the end of the other fleshy parts. I was amazed by how much Alice seemed to be enjoying herself while Jazz just grunted. Alice came and it was beautiful to see on her face. I was still rubbing down Jasper from behind and finally started to want to join the situation. It wasn't a goodbye. It was just another late-night adventure, I figured. It was easier to get aroused if I just kept thinking that.

I rubbed my dick between Jasper's cheeks and pressed myself to him for a better grip. Jazz had a smaller frame than I did, than I was used to. I let out a small moan but Alice was apparently riding a second wave of something glorious. Jazz reached back with his left hand and grabbed my ass, pressing me to him even harder. I moaned into his shoulder blade and began to thrust my hips as though I were inside him.

Alice was coming down the wave and Jazz had pulled out his fingers. I wondered if it was over but neither Jazz nor I had come yet and stopping before that happened was blasphemy in my world. Jazz straightened up and I stopped my motions over his dick. He was stiff as a literal piece of wood but he was stopping. Straight sex continued to confuse me.

He smoothed the hair back from Alice's face and tilted his head to the right. I couldn't see his face but I was sure he was smiling lovingly. He'd done that very thing to me and I closed my eyes just to remember that day.

"Honey, where do you keep the lube and the condoms?" he asked Alice casually.

"Oh!" she shouted. "I completely forgot you need those. Yea, they're in one of my white dresser drawers."

He nodded, gave her a quick peck on the lips and went in search of our supplies. I just knelt there, looking down at Alice on her back, her legs spread. She was following Jasper with her eyes, licking her lips as though missing him already. She realized I was above her and closed her legs, moving her underwear back into place.

"Sorry. I'm on the pill and since I'm only with him, that stuff is kind of unnecessary. I'm sure this didn't seem that great to you. Are you enjoying it even a little?" she asked considerately.

I smirked and relaxed, running my clean hand over my eyes. I sat down on my ankles and nodded. "Yea, sorry. I'm not used to female anatomy."

Her eyes widened and she pushed herself up onto her elbows to better look at me. My nudity didn't seem to surprise her. She didn't even notice the one sock I was still wearing. "You've never been with a woman?" she asked, her voice dripping disbelief.

"You're the first one I kiss too, love. Feel special."

"I do! I do!" she answered, nodding enthusiastically. She looked about at the implications. "You curious?"

I laughed a little, more out of awkwardness than anything. I shrugged. "I kind of am. Not for the reasons a teenage boy might be curious but still."

She opened up her legs again and said, "Hey, if we're going to be doing this, you might as well get a full education. I don't mind."

I scoffed, my smile gone. "How can you not mind?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Honey, I'm just coming off a multiple orgasm from being in bed with two men. Do you really think I care? I'm on fucking cloud nine. Besides, Jazz knows that the moment I took off my dress, I agreed to anything."

"But Jazz—"

She looked up over her right shoulder to their bedroom. I could hear light cursing and rifling like Jazz wasn't having much luck finding the stuff. "Jazz, baby, you mind if I use Edward for a bit?" she said in an almost conversational tone.

"I haven't found the fucking condoms yet!" a disembodied voice responded.

We both laughed. "We won't need one for this!" I promised.

A second later, he replied, "Go ahead!"

She reached for the elastic on her underwear and pulled it off, throwing it over her head. She opened her legs as far as they'd go and repeated, "Go ahead."

My eyes shot open. "Uh, ahead with what?" She held back the laughter. She undid her bra too, reached up, and took my hands. She brought them up to her breast and squeezed for me. I felt like I was playing with fleshy, warm water balloons. "Yea, okay. Those are different."

She laughed and moved my hands about her skin, lower and lower. We got to her crotch and I cupped her. I shot her a look, asking for permission, and slipped my middle finger inside her, testing how deep I could go. She barely felt it. I would have been jumping. I pulled it out and slipped in two. I pressed my thumb down where Jazz had but didn't swirl. She was so fucking warm inside and sticky, even though neither of us had gone off inside her.

"Thanks," I told her and, before I could cut her off, continued, "For letting me feel what Jazz does every day."

"Think you might switch teams?" she joked.

I laughed hysterically and pulled out of her. "No fucking way. I appreciate the anatomy lesson but I don't get why you even care about me, why you'd allow yourself to do give in to Jasper's twisted little mindset."

"I promise you. It's my pleasure, and because you're my friend too now. I like you. You're honest and beautiful and you know parts of Jazz that I can never know. I figure that having you close to me will get me closer to those parts of _him_."

"Those may be the most profound words anyone's ever said to me while on their back with their legs wide open." I sighed and brought my fingers up to my face. I looked at them for a moment and decided I might as well taste her. Definitely a bit different too.

When I looked up, Jazz was leaning in the doorway with a box of condoms and a tube of lube, his brow furrowed.

"Sorry," I said and slid off the couch, standing pathetically limp and useless. I couldn't even look him in the eyes.

He walked up to me and handed me the tube. I wasn't used to being this submissive to him but I was in _his_ place, with _his_ girl. I felt like I could do something wrong at any moment and lose him forever. He saw it on my face and tried to smile.

"It's okay, babe," he said, reaching up to rake my hair back. It wasn't the physical intimacy that bothered me. It was the fact that he was so comfortable doing all these little signs of love in front of another person. I missed my apartment so badly. "For the love of God, relax, Edward. It's not like you haven't done worse with people you didn't even know."

That's right. With people I didn't know. This was completely different.

He dropped the box on the coffee table and ran his hands up and down my arms. It did soothe me. I'd had an audience before. It'd just never been a woman. It'd never been someone as virtuous as Alice, who looked upon us with curiosity and unequivocal patience. It was always other horny men who licked their lips and wanked in a corner, usually too timid to take part themselves.

"I want to watch," Alice said, sitting up on the couch and hugging her knees.

Jasper's eyes were on me now. He could compartmentalize like a pro. When he was fingering Alice, he was entirely focused on her. When he was covering my dick in sticky lube, he was focused on me. The only way I could get even remotely turned on was by pretending Alice wasn't there. The moment I did, my body began to respond to Jazz as it normally did.

Our tongues met and fought for dominance. The craving for each other's warmth was stronger than ever. I think Jazz understood that we only had one last chance at this before the wedding. After those vows were made, neither of them would ever break them. They believed in monogamy, in duty and commitment. I didn't, at least not in the physical sense.

"This is it," I warned him as he pressed our bodies together, clenching my ass for dear life. Suddenly, the proximity wasn't erotic at all. It was just pathetic. I couldn't kiss him enough and, at the same time, I couldn't stand to kiss him anymore. The pain of knowing he would never be mine again started to sink in and, though I didn't cry, I couldn't help the sobs. My shoulders shook and I buried my face in his neck. He stopped any stroking and clawing of my back and just hugged me. So tight and yet, not tight enough.

"I'm sorry, Edward. You shouldn't have had to feel like you had to do this. It's ridiculous. I'm sorry," said Alice from the couch.

"What do you mean?" asked Jazz. He knew something was going on, that Alice and I were in some form of cahoots. "What the fuck did you guys talk about when I wasn't here?"

I shook my head and pushed him off. I wiped his taste off my lips on the back of my arm and went in search of my clothes. When I left, Jazz was staring at Alice, trying to read the plan as though it were written on her face. Nobody tried to stop me and I never found out what they said.

I saw them again at the rehearsal dinner. They seemed happy and nervous and adorable. I didn't shake Jasper's hand or kiss Alice's cheek hello as I normally would. I didn't bring a date, though one or two of my female friends had offered to accompany me for show. I'd turned into one of those one-night stands who transferred all their frustration on a partner they'd never see again. Sure, sometimes it made for good, angsty sex. In my case, it ended with me running out of a room before the guy decided he wanted to cuddle, just to end up sobbing in the bathroom after they left.

The dinner was a dinner. I was just another guest. I mingled with Alice's gay cousin, who was kind of a heartthrob, as it turned out, the kind that looked best in black and white photos. But, he was only recently out of the closet. It'd be like dating a virgin and those things never went well, not with my level of experience. We flirted and fucked after dinner and we never called each other again. Ah, the good ole times.

We kissed at the wedding against a wall of the church, which didn't make me feel nearly as guilty as it should have. It was an act of defiance from someone who knew they'd never see a heaven in this life or the next. I even winked at the priest on the way to the church. They put Jazz and me in another little room behind the altar so Jazz could get ready. I was doing the best man thing and trying to calm him down but, right now, it just involved me sitting in a chair in a corner and listening to him freak out about kids and the future while he fixed his tie for the hundredth time.

There was a half hour till the wedding and all I kept thinking was how long it'd take me to bleed out if I stabbed myself in the neck. I didn't care about kids and marriage, never even considered the possibility. I especially didn't want to hear Jasper talking about all this but I also knew he just didn't want to talk about us. After all, we'd left things in an awkward state.

"Don't leave me for a second, 'kay?" he pleaded for the third time since this morning.

"Like glue, Jazz," I droned. "I'll stick to you like glue."

He rolled his eyes at me in the mirror. I got fed up with his jittery attitude and stood from my chair. I must have looked furious because he instantly tensed and his hands dropped to his side, eyes wide.

"Would you leave that damn tie alone? Did you ever think that maybe I'd rather be out there flirting with Alice's cousin?" I said, throwing my arms in the air. "Or… I dunno. Anything else!"

"No one's stopping you!" he shot back, spinning on his heel to face me directly. "You're the one who agreed to be best man, you ass! Go! Go get laid!"

I smirked though still obviously irritated. "I don't want to get laid, Jazz! Would you just stop fidgeting? You're annoying the shit out of me."

I expecting him to go right back to the mirror to continue adjusting his tie but he didn't. He just stood there, waiting for me to say something or do something. I furrowed my brow and tried to distract him by waving off my previous statements and going to fix his tie myself, a fake smile plastered on my face. There was no hope for the stupid tie. He'd wrinkled it to an inch of death. I took it off and he closed his eyes instinctively. Last time I'd done that, well, it'd been a completely different situation.

I pulled off my own and looped it around his neck. I spun him around and we faced the mirror to . His eyes were the saddest I'd ever seen. Mine were worse, just torched sockets. It looked like neither of us had slept in years. Grief had a way of doing that. I got to work on his tie. His hands reached up to my arm, pulling down my hands once the tie was well done.

"You won't have a tie then," he whispered sadly, staring at our reflection.

I smirked and shrugged. "I look better like this. I doubt Alice will complain. Between you and me, I think she likes the chest hair."

He made a frown like he was about to gag but didn't. I doubt he was paying attention to me. His mind was on the girl waiting for him at the altar and her face when she came and the way she spoke so rarely yet so passionately. Hell, I'd have fallen in love with her too. It was getting easier to let him go the more I liked Alice. I was just trying to convince myself she was the better mate. It didn't matter what Jasper thought, who he loved. He deserved the best and that wasn't me.

I tried to pull my hand away but he didn't let go. "Jazz, what are you—"

He spun around and his teary eyes met mine. "Tell me again," he pleaded desperately. "Tell me why you left. I can't go up to that altar unless you tell me."

I scoffed though his expression and the intensity of his eyes were getting to me too. "We weren't working," I lied.

"What does that even mean?" he shouted, pushing me back. I didn't stumble. I saw it coming.

"It means… It means we just didn't have chemistry." Now I knew he couldn't possibly believe me. If we had anything at all, any reason to stay together, it was our chemistry. I still felt it now, the shivers down my spine as he ran his hands up my torso.

"Tell me the truth!" I winced at his tone. I wanted him to move on, not to hate me. He was forcing me into this.

"What truth, Jazz?" I pushed back. He did stumble and I fought with myself not to reach for him, to steady him. It was my nature to protect him and keep him close, even if it meant sabotaging any other relationship he might ever have had or any other chance to be truly happy.

"Tell me you don't love me that way!"

What little pieces of my heart that remained floating about my chest were now dissolved completely. "I don't fucking love you," I mumbled through gritted teeth. It didn't hurt nearly enough to say it. By then, I hated him and myself to such a degree that I would have said anything to rid myself of the pain. "You were just another fuck. You were a conquest to be had, my first love. Fucking you rid me of unresolved tension. It was cathartic. It was not, however, love. Love is waiting for you out there in a white dress. Go! Just go!"

He barely blinked, barely reacted. It was as though I'd read him too well, given in to too many of his preexisting doubts, and he had no choice but to believe me. I had finally gotten my final goodbye because this time, he had no reason to come after me.

I didn't wait for him to say anything back, not that it looked like he had any intention of talking ever again. I stormed out through the back of the church, ignoring stares and whispers as I always did. I felt like I was a mouse running through a maze with now end. I finally reached the outside and stopped to breathe, leaning forward onto my knees and praying I didn't fall forward and pass out in front of my best friend's wedding.

I gave my heart a moment, wiped away what loose tears and sweat mingled on my cheeks, and went to walk to my car when I saw Alice and her entire wedding entourage gaping at me by the limo. I didn't know what to say except, "I'm sorry, Alice. I thought I could stand there but I can't. Forgive me. He asked too much."

Again, I didn't let her respond. I heard the pitter-patter of her heels as she ran through the side entrance behind the altar. I walked to the lot, found my car and, with shaking hands, drove myself home.

The moment I closed my door behind me, I found myself free of the shock and allowed myself to break down without the need for restraint. There was no one here to judge me for crying or for falling in love with the wrong person. There was no one here to make it worse but there was also no one to make it better and it felt like whatever emotional collapse was making my knees weak would never cease and I would die in my bed.

What made it worse was that I prayed nobody would care and he could just go on living without me.

-

Someone knocked on my door around 7:00. I ignored it but it didn't go away. I hadn't changed out of my suit but it was now wrinkled and unbuttoned and hanging off me like I was the world's saddest coat rack.

After fifteen minutes of light knocking, I got up and dragged myself to the door. I expected it to be a random guy I might have made a plan with while drunk. I often had such "appointments" but I didn't remember making any. I hadn't really been out drinking since I broke up with Jazz. I preferred to drink by myself, usually in the dark in front of my TV, completely nude for better access.

I expected it to be Alice, screaming at me for not sitting through the whole wedding. For a second, I even thought it was her cousin, looking for a post-reception hook-up. I wouldn't have sent him away.

I never, not once, thought it'd be Jazz, looking just as shabby as me in the same black suit. His hair was raked back almost convulsively like he did when he thought about things deeply. He looked at me like I was a mirage, trying to find the reality behind the mess of colors and twisting worlds. And then he found me and his eyes widened, bloodshot but still beautiful.

I didn't move. I expected another argument so I didn't even speak, just waiting for the words to hit me like raindrops. I closed my eyes, bracing myself.

That's when I felt the sharp crack of fist on cheek and I was sent tumbling back. I heard the close slam behind him and whirled around, holding my aching cheekbone. How I didn't have a black eye in the morning, it was a miracle. Perhaps it was the shock of being struck by someone as meek as Jazz that hurt my pride much more than the physical force hurt my cheek. I didn't curse, didn't fight back as I normally would.

If Jazz wanted to beat me till I bled, he was entitled to in my book, but I knew he never would. I knew he just needed that one release and then he'd be done with me. I owed him a lot more than a little punch to the face could ever equate.

"You fucking liar!" he screamed, pacing in front of the door.

I went to sit on my couch's armrest, avoiding his deathly stare. "Why aren't you on your honeymoon, Jazz?" I said, practically scolding him for turning his back on the perfect life I'd built for him.

"Alice saw you go. She came looking for me, apologizing for what you both had done. She thought you'd told me!"

I groaned and covered my eyes. When I took my hand away, I expected to wake from the nightmare, that there could have been some way for him to disappear so I wouldn't have to explain why I did it.

But, as luck would have it, it had already been done for me. "She told me why you did it," he said, his voice as soft as his caresses.

I sighed with relief and fought the urge to cry out of exhaustion. _Not_ being with Jazz was almost as emotionally taxing as _being_ with him. "I did it for a reason, Jazz. So you could have a better life."

He cackled madly, out of breath. "What the hell made you think being with her was any better than being with you?" he asked.

He paused for a moment and I could see the answers filing inside him already, one after another like dominoes. There was nothing he could ask that he didn't already know the answer to. He'd been inside my head for years and in my bed for months but it was enough to make him an extension of my whole soul and self. That boy would be in my heart for the rest of my life.

"Did you mean what you said today?" he whispered and I realized he'd walked to me till we were almost nose to nose. He warmed my chest with his proximity. I knew he knew the answer to that, just how he knew deep down my goodbye two months ago had been a lie. He wanted me to say it and I had no more reason to lie or to hold back.

"You know damn well that I'd run in front of a train if it'd stop me from loving you. But you know it wouldn't. Nothing ever will, Jazz."

I avoided his eyes, telling his lips instead. They curled up into the tiniest smirk before he took that final step forward. His lips pressed to mine and it felt intensely satisfying, like putting the final piece into a lifelong jigsaw puzzle. His icy fingertips caressed my aching cheeks and I found my somewhat limp arms finding enough life in them to wrap around him, locking him to me forever.

The kiss became desperate, slow but never-ending. There was so much to be said but nothing that couldn't be better expressed in bed. It was how I knew to show him how much I loved him, why I let him go the way I did.

We didn't speak for two days. We didn't leave my apartment. Nobody came looking for us and we disconnected the phone. On the third day, I woke up to find him dressed in my clothes. He sat at my dinner table with a cup of coffee, staring at two airline tickets on the table. I raised an eyebrow at him but he explained before I could ask.

"They were under the door when I came to get coffee. They're from Alice. Second one's in your name."

I walked over and picked up my coffee mug from the kitchen counter. Whatever happened between us these last few months seemed to have been erased by two nights of fucking. It was a blank slate. I didn't care where those tickets went. I didn't care about the implications of spending the rest of my life with one man. I already couldn't imagine waking up to another face, another smile. I couldn't imagine other hands touching me or having other sweet lips on mine. I couldn't promise him we'd make it forever or that I wouldn't be tempted by others in the long run.

He knew this too, could read it on my face as I stared at the airline tickets. I took them in my hands, sat down beside him, and slowly turned to him. He waited for my answer with desperate eyes. If I agreed to go on that trip, it meant I agreed to leave this apartment with him for the first time. It meant we'd try for a happily ever after, a forever I always thought imaginary.

"Forever is a long time, Jazz," I reminded him softly. "I can't promise forever."

He just mirrored my usual cocky smirk and answered, "Yes, but someone once taught me… to not try at all would always be the greater crime."

All I knew was that to try with anyone else would have been a pointless endeavor. We were more than sex and more than beautiful lies. We were based in trust and love and understanding and a friendship I could never even begin to define. There was not a piece of him I didn't want or a moment I didn't need him by my side.

"I'm not asking for forever. You know I'd grant you a second chance, a third or fourth… Just promise me no more stupid games. Please. And no more blind decisions based on stupid notions on love," he begged, squeezing my hand. He already knew he'd won whatever argument I was having with my conscience.

"No more games," I answered and leaned in for a kiss from the only lips I'd ever taste again.

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